His Blue Eye
by seriousblahblah
Summary: "What is your name?" "Alastor," he panted. Long swaths of silky dark reddish-brown hair fell into his face; she could only make out one of his piercing blue eyes. Time travel. Hermione/mystery.


A/N: This is the most unusual and disturbing story I've probably written. Not sure what to think. Tell me what you think.

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 **His Blue Eye**

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The rugged man on top of her pistoned his hips and grabbed at her hair with increasingly rough and strangled cries. He seemed to be weeping as he made love to her. Hermione felt herself bent like molten metal under his touch; he was fiery and he made love like a wrought iron worker: burning her up with heavy blows and sparks of fire that grew in her belly and then struck out to her fingertips and ends of her toes.

"Yes, yes, yes," she rode him til she was nearly at completion.

Hermione had no idea who he is and every time she tried to look at—

"What is your name?"

"Alastor," he panted and came then like all ends of fate were meeting.

Long swaths of silky dark reddish-brown hair fell into his face; she could only make out one of his piercing blue eyes.

Frantic to see the face of her lover, who had brought her to so much ecstasy and heights of pleasure, she reached out her trembling hands to move his hair out of his face. So that she could finally see him.

"Wait, no," his heavy, pouting lips spoke and he grabbed her hands forcefully by the wrists.

"Alastor, why don't you want me to see you?" She pleaded with her lover; she had just met him in a whirlwind of rock music and smoke in a wizard cafe, his face half-covered by long hair and he reminded her for some reason of David Bowie, all mystery and poignance. And in the brief split second of eternity she knew him, she already she knew that he carried her heart.

"I just—" He laughed as if about to tell a grim joke. His electric blue eye met hers. "The truth is that—" He reached out his own hand to lift the long hair from his face.

 _Hermione woke up before she could see her lover's face._

 _She was panting and breathing heavily in bed. Alone. Though she swore she could still taste the sweat from his skin on her body._

 _She rolled over uncomfortably and checked the alarm magiwatch on the wall._

 _It was 2am, Sunday, September 1996._

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"Hermione, are you alright? You appear a bit shaken," Remus said as he held the door open for her.

They were all in Grimmauld Place for one of the final meetings before Harry, Ron and her would go off Horcruxe hunting. (Of course, no one except Dumbledore knew of this plan and it was not something they had even articulated to anyone outside of the Golden Trio.)

Snape was still alive and, though cursed and ailing, so was Dumbledore. Dumbledore's hand got worse everyday but he was still alive and seemed to have the same confident, twinkle in his blue eyes. But Hermione had a feeling that any time now something drastic was going to tear the Order and its spies apart. And that Dumbledore, weakened as he was, would not be able to stop it.

It seemed too risky and long-running that Snape had been working as a double-agent; something surely was going to happen eventually to pry and flicker everything apart like so many firebombs being set off.

Snape would be found out, or he'd be tortured and their secrets divulged to Voldemort. Until one by one, they were named and brought under attack.

Hermione met Remus's eyes. "I can't say for sure. It _is_ a war."

Remus's smile was heartbreaking. "It's the war for the adults Hermione, you're still a child, a student. You won't be seeing most of this, or bearing the brunt of it."

"Is that why Harry, Ron and I were finally invited to an Order meeting?"

Remus smiled grimly. "It was Sirius's last wish that Harry be more involved, though you know that none of you can actually be Order members. You're still underage."

"I know. But none of you know either what mission Harry, Ron and I have been tasked with," Hermione said cryptically.

The aged werewolf's face suddenly seemed disturbed. "What mission is that?"

Hermione's eyes swept the ground, she hated to keep secrets from Remus because he was good and kindhearted. But this was something Remus could never know about.

"You can ask Dumbledore," she told Remus, and then swept into the darkly lit kitchen where Harry and the rest of the Order members sat. With only Sirius's chair long empty and collecting dust. She sat in his chair.

She knew, of course, that Dumbledore would not tell Remus one word about what they, or rather she singularly, had been tasked with.

Her eyes met Harry's across the room and she tried not to show any of her worries. Though her worries seemed to only grow everyday, like the heads of the Hydra. When one was cut down, another grew. And it was because Voldemort had not seven horcruxes, but two more.

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 _A month before...Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office_

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Dumbledore crossed his fingers together as he bent his arms at the elbows across his ancient desk.

Hermione tried not to look at his blackened hand, though it was very hard not to.

Dumbledore raised his chin and met her hardened gaze over his half-moon glasses.

"Miss Granger," he began. "As you may know, I have tasked Harry Potter with finding and destroying the remaining horcruxes created by Voldemort."

She nodded. Harry had explained everything to her. So she knew exactly everything there was to know about Voldemort's seven Horcruxes and the two already destroyed.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "What you may not know," Dumbledore's voice grew more gravelly and deeper. "Is that there is one more Horcruxe that you must destroy and one other Horcruxe I must give you."

"Sir, I don't understand. Why haven't you told Harry?" She could feel her adrenaline building, because she knew somehow already without it being spoken, that Dumbledore was going to say something that would change her life forever.

"Because," Dumbledore began. "It was _you_ who informed me of the other two."

Hermione's cheeks lit up in confusion. "Sir, that is impossible. I have never even spoken to you of Horcruxes before and the only ones I know of are the ones you told Harry about—"

Dumbledore smirked beseechingly and his wrinkled, uninjured hand lifted to pass to her over a long-forgotten object.

It was a time turner, but a black iron one with a rusted case and her initials on it.

She took it with shaking hands, wondering how she had come into possession of a time-turner and why her initials were on it.

"Sir—"

"Hermione Granger, or should I say Hermione M—" Dumbledore stopped himself short before he could finish that sentence. He cradled his injured hand beside his uninjured hand. "Things are not always what they seem, Miss Granger. I assure you that this time-turner was once yours and given to me by you a long time ago for safe-keeping."

Hermione could hardly breathe, it felt like she was being told she was dropping through the rabbit-hole or something. "This can't be..."

Dumbledore only nodded. "It is. Unfortunately. So I'm giving you back your property and two horcruxes."

"Two?" Hermione's eyebrows raised. Her palm was sweating profusely in the hand that still held the dark iron time-turner, which seemed to be burning through her hand with dark intentions. "You have only given me one, and are you really saying that Voldemort made a Time-Turner into a horcruxe. Isn't that dangerous?"

Dumbledore smiled and laid back in his chair to reach under his desk for another dark, felt bag. He laid the dark bag on the desk and she eyed it.

"It is very dangerous, Hermione. Which is why I am entrusting you with these under the strictest secrecy. No one must know. Not even Harry."

"Why?"

His blackened injured hand pushed the little bag towards her. "Because these horcruxes aren't ordinary ones—if horcruxes could even be said to be ordinary—but these are particularly rare and peculiar." Dumbledore's voice sounded disturbed as he described them. "These can only be destroyed by going back in time. And by you."

He pressed the small bag towards her and again she hesitated to take it. She had a terrible fear of opening it and she couldn't explain why; the little black bag was just ominous.

Dumbledore reassured me. "You entrusted them to me, for when the time was right, and that time is now, Hermione. They couldn't be destroyed before you used the same time-turner to travel back one more time and to give a young man the object in that bag. You'll understand when you see it."

Hermione felt more frightened than ever to peek into the small bag, though the more she stared at it, it seemed to contain something small and round like a marble. With shaking fingers she grabbed the small bag; indeed it was heavy like it contained a stone marble inside it.

"Go on," Dumbledore urged her. "It's not easy, I never said this mission was going to be, it won't be. You can give up trying for a bit, but never ever give up hope."

Hermione bit her lip as she dipped her fingers into the small bag to retrieve the marble-shaped object out.

She nearly choked and a scream died in her throat as she finally saw what it was.

It was Mad-Eye Moody's eye.

She dropped the glass-like eye from her hand and she watched in horror as it dropped onto the floor and rolled across the carpet.

 _No, no, no, no this can't be._

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[The-Lyrical-Challenge: 2. Not a whisper, the only noise is the receiver. I'm counting the seconds until you break the silence. (A Twist In My Story by Secondhand Serenade)]

[Wand Writing Competition: (genre) hurt/comfort; (character) Alastor Moody; (general prompt) Phoenix; (dialogue prompt) "You can give up trying for a bit, but never ever give up hope."]

"Hermione, it was you who told me when Moody will die and it was you will give him this eye." this will be explained more in detail; I assure you that it has to do with time travel, not inconsistency errors...all will be explained...


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